Reach Me a Rose
by wynnebat
Summary: A story of the worst decision of Lucy's life, and the best day of her life that followed it. Lucy/Victoire.


**Summary:** A story of the worst decision of Lucy's life, and the best day of her life that followed it. _Lucy/Victoire._

Written for the "I Kissed a Girl" Competition on the HPFC forums. Title from F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby.

**Reach Me a Rose**

Victoire slept fitfully the night before her last date with Teddy, kept awake by the sound of the lyre floating through the thin walls from the room on the other side of the wall. Infused with magic, no silencing charm could keep it out, but the music wasn't unpleasant so much as inharmonious: one minute, Lucy would play a pleasantly soothing melody, the next a melody more suited to the drums than the harp-like instrument. Every time Victoire was lulled into a daze, she was jarred awake within minutes. And every time Victoire told herself she would stop listening and fall asleep, Lucy would play such a pretty chord and Victoire couldn't help listening closer. Eventually Victoire could take it no longer and forced herself to leave her warm bed and knock on Lucy's door.

She didn't wait for an answer before coming inside—Lucy had a habit of leaving the natural world behind when playing—and murmured, "Lucy." Her voice came out in a whisper, the last syllable distorted in a yawn.

Like Victoire had expected, Lucy sat in a wooden chair along the far wall, her brown hair hanging over her lyre as she scribbled madly on a piece of parchment on her desk. Every other second, she pulled a few strings and recorded her observations.

"Lucy," Victoire said more loudly, and waved her hand in front of Lucy's eyes. She knew better than to touch Lucy when she was wrangling with tentative magic.

Lucy looked up and grinned, her eyes wide and sleepless. "I found how to connect the magic strands to accelerate my skin growth!" she exclaimed, and waved a finger in front of Victoire's face. Victoire noticed a few flakes of skin hanging loose. "Permanently, not that shoddy Sleat's Skin Solution stuff! Well, actually, I may have broken their secret formula, but no matter, they don't have a patent. Do you know what this means? I'm finally getting somewhere! If I could just tailor this to others' skin, not my own, St. Mungo's would stop having to pay millions of Galleons a year for Sleat's! I could finish my Healing apprenticeship two years early and quit visiting patients! They might even give me my own office. I could finally break through the barrier between musical magic and wand magic!"

Victoire pulled the lyre out of Lucy's hands, untangling a few strands of brown hair that had gotten stuck in the instrument. "Sweetheart, do you know what time it is?"

"Time for medicine?" Lucy looked so hopeful, stretching her hand to take back the lyre, but Victoire shook her head and put it on Lucy's dresser.

"Time for bed. Past time, actually. You've been keeping me up." She said it gently, to keep her words from stinging, but Lucy could tell Victoire was stressed and tired.

Lucy let herself be pulled off the uncomfortable wooden chair (uncomfortable on purpose, to keep herself from overworking) and into her bed. Victoire checked her over for ink splashes while Lucy's mind ran back to her research (maybe she could use a different instrument? She had chosen the lyre to connect to the collective Wizarding past, but maybe a violin would do better?), then emptied Lucy's bed of medical textbooks. "Come on," she encouraged, pulling Lucy under the covers with her. Lucy looked a bit gaunt—she'd obviously not eaten anything healthy in the days following her breakthrough—and her eyes had deep bruises under them. Her skin was a pasty shade of pale, far from her usual good complexion.

Once in bed, Victoire tangled her legs with Lucy's to prevent her from getting up again to work. "I need sleep, and so do you. Tomorrow's a big day. You're going to work after skipping the last few days—bet you didn't think I noticed, you sneak—and I'm breaking up with Teddy."

Lucy snorted quietly, but tucked her head under Victoire's and scooted closer. "No you're not."

"Course I am," Victoire slurred, already falling back asleep. Lucy pinched her arm after a minute to check and Victoire didn't even flinch.

"You always say that," Lucy whispered. "And then he'll do a stupid hair trick or change his nose or look five years old for a minute and you'll call him an idiot and remember why you love him."

Victoire's hand moved over Lucy's mouth in her last gesture before sleep, one of her fingers falling on Lucy's lips, then her arm fell down again. Lucy took Victoire's hand into hers. "He's going to propose tomorrow. Well, later today, really. And you're going to say yes because he's sweet and you like him, never mind that he acts like he's still thirteen." Victoire said nothing back, and Lucy sighed. "You shouldn't be allowed make mistakes like that, but you're going to, anyway, because you're Victoire Weasley and he's Teddy Lupin, and you're made for each other according to half the world, and you're just going through a three year long rough patch."

She pulled on each of Victoire's fingers until she reached her empty ring finger. She felt like a chocolate frog was inside her throat, scrambling to get out, and she pushed back a sob and let go of Victoire's hand.

"I'm on the half that doesn't want you to be meant for him," she confessed. "You're my best friend, my favorite cousin, my secret crush. Except crush is such a weak word, and I barely want to let it describe you—you're too amazing to be someone's crush. Not that you know. You're a bit oblivious.

"I'm not a Metamorphmagus. I'm not a stupid idiot, or a guy, or cuddly and lovable. But you could still love me, you know. If you wanted to. I wouldn't be against it." Victoire said nothing, of course, and Lucy finally closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the night. Victoire's body was warm against her side, and if she pushed her imagination a little, she could pretend they were lovers instead of platonic best friends.

When Lucy woke up, her arm immediately went to the spot next to her, feeling the cold sheets and empty space. Victoire was gone, back to her ice cream shop, and in about twelve hours, back to Teddy. The blanket she kept for Victoire on these nights (as they were both guilty blanket hogs) was stretched over Lucy's body, and Lucy smiled at Victoire's caring. If she leaned her head in, she might still catch a whiff of Victoire's perfume, but Lucy convinced herself not to. She refused to pine over Victoire that way, and besides, she was probably already late for work.

Work, yes.

Lucy lay stretched out on her bed for another half hour before lazily throwing on her work robes and Flooing to St. Mungo's. As expected, Madam Fink, the Healer apprentice supervisor, had no patience for her arrival time. "My office now, Weasley!"

Lucy sat in one of the armchairs—which were far more comfortable than the ones in the apprentice lounge, even though Fink constantly went on about limited budget spending—while Madam Fink paced the room.

"You are a detriment to our Healing program. The weak link. A menace to our patients!"

Lucy nodded. "The poor patients."

"The poor patients! Who depend on you to do your job and help them through their dark days, and you— You disrespect them, and every one of our Healers, by coming in three hours late!"

Lucy nodded again. "Three and a half, even."

"Three and a half! You may think you're some sort of magical genius with your swishy-wishy musical healing—something that hasn't been proved and likely never will, why you're wasting the department's time I don't know—" Lucy's hands tightened into fists, but she didn't argue "—but while you still answer to me, you will come in on time for every one of your shifts. Do you understand me, Apprentice Weasley?"

Lucy kept her head bowed with apparent shame. "I understand. It won't happen again."

"Good." Madam Fink finally stopped pacing and sat down behind her desk. "You may go. Apprentice Fred Weasley is doing your rounds today, and you may check on Ticathy Timmons in Potions and Plant Poisoning now."

Lucy kept her head bowed until she left Madam Fink's office, when she finally let herself drop the guilty facade. She wanted to be a medical magic researcher one day, not a Healer, but she couldn't become a researcher until she finished six years of medical training and proved her worth in spell creation. She was two years off from finishing her training, but with a little luck, she hoped Researcher Martin would accept her application early. He already had a soft spot for her, and she knew she could prove that musical magic did exist.

Sometimes she wished she were more like Victoire, who had her life figured out already. Straight after finishing Hogwarts, Victoire had bought the old Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor building, which had been partially converted into a shoe shop, a pet store, and a residential home, all by different owners, in the years following the Second Wizarding War. People said the building was unlucky, and haunted by the angry Fortescue to boot. But with a little help from Uncle George and the very real, very nice ghost of Florean Fortescue, Victoire had made it an ice-cream parlor again.

Victoire also didn't have to deal with irritating hospital patients, unlike Fred Weasley, who was currently arguing with Patient Ticathy Timmons in room 3 of St. Mungo's Triple-P ward.

"You don't actually have a case of Dragon Blood Poisoning, madam," he said, shaking the chart in her direction. "You may have ingested the blood by accident, but it was too little to damage your intestines. If you could please excuse me—" He paused when he noticed Lucy swing her head into the room. "—and look, the future youngest Healer in over a century is coming by! She can confirm everything I say!" Mumbling under his breath, he also added, "And you can finally shut up."

Lucy scowled at him, but accepted the chart to glance over it. "You're fine. You'll live. Now please empty the room for someone who actually needs care." She left the room, leaving Fred to deal with Patient Timmons' spluttering, and instead headed to the ninth floor break room. It was near the second coma ward, a ward reserved for people with a limited number of visitors, and had the convenience of being little visited by full-time Healers, as the coma patients rarely needed full-time Healer attention. Why the administration put a break room that floor, she had no idea, but she loved it.

Fred joined her only a few minutes later, grabbing an energy potion from the corner cupboard like his life depended on it and dropping down on a plushy couch. He downed it noisily, finishing with a burp and a, "How's life been treating you?"

Lucy shrugged. "I'm showing my research to Martin today. It's as finished as it'd going to get with me wasting so much time at the hospital."

"Are you sure? Is it good enough to impress him?" Fred offered her a milder energy potion, but Lucy shook her head. She'd gotten adequate sleep (Victoire's warm, unfortunately clothed body flashed in her mind) and didn't want to be hyped up for her presentation.

"I'm sick of this." She threw her arms out in emphasis. "All of this. I've been here for four years working my arse off at a job I hate, with the same stupid patients bugging me every damn day. I want to know once and for all if he'll take me on as his trainee. If he won't, I'll quit. I hate this. I love medical research, but I'm not Healer material. I want to be able to tinker with spells to my heart's content, not listen to whiny patients."

"But your great bedside manner will be wasted on your spells," Fred joked. He didn't look at all cowed by her glare, but being her friend for almost two decades decade had probably gotten him acclimatized. "Or maybe you'll spend it on Vivacious Victoire instead. How's it going on that front for you?"

"What do you think?" Lucy drawled. "She's getting engaged today."

"Maybe you'd attract her better with an improved bedside manner. You know: go to her room in the middle of the night, give her a nudge, tell her you can't sleep, cuddle up beside her, snog her while a recording spell is active in the background so I don't miss a single moment of it..."

"Fuck off, Fred," she grumbled, and he moved closer to her and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Sorry, sorry. But you could do something at least. Win her over, seduce her, anything. That or move on already." He kneaded her shoulders while Lucy considered all the reasons his advice wouldn't work.

"For one, she's straight. Two, did you hear that part about how she's dating Teddy?"

Fred shook his head. "You mean _Teddy's_ dating _her_. Everyone knows he's mad about her, and she's fond enough of him to let their relationship stretch for a year, then break up with him. Then she dates some guy, Teddy woos her with a big romantic gesture, and they have another go at it. She's a—"

"I will happily kick you where it hurts if you insult my best friend."

Fred put his hands up in apology, and Lucy thought about his advice for a moment.

"I could buy her flowers," Lucy thought aloud.

"To congratulate her on her engagement?" His disbelief was audible.

"Yeah. It's the friendly thing to do."

When she got home at eight after a hard day of avoiding work (and the nerve-wracking event of giving Martin her research, which wasn't quite a part of her soul but felt like it), the apartment was empty. She checked Victoire's room just in case and lingered for a moment, knowing it might be one of the last times she'd be in it. Teddy had wanted Victoire to move in with him for a while, and now that they were engaged, she might finally agree. No more would Lucy have her best friend and love only a shout away.

She picked up a bouquet and Apparated to Diagon Alley, taking care not to let anyone bump into her and ruin the flowers. They were a bouquet of spring daffodils, Victoire's favorite kind of flower. Unable to keep the thought from her head, Lucy wondered what kind of bouquet Victoire would have at her wedding. It was like an exercise in torture, thinking of Victoire and Teddy bound together for the rest of their lives, buying a house close to the Burrow, having children, making love.

Lucy pushed those thoughts away. It was Saturday, and unless Victoire went back to Teddy's for engagement sex, she would have gone back to Florean's to clean up. Maybe Lucy would catch her there, and give her the flowers, and Victoire's breath would catch, and she'd realize she loved Lucy. Or maybe Lucy would win the Daily Prophet's lottery without even entering.

Inside, Victoire sat behind the counter eating a triple-scoop raspberry ice-cream cone. Lucy sat down on one of the stools and waited for Victoire to look up. When she did, Lucy smiled and handed her the bouquet. "These are for you."

Victoire raised an eyebrow and put the flowers beside her. "You knew about tonight and didn't tell me?"

Lucy didn't meet Victoire's eyes. "Teddy had everything planned out." Their entire extended family knew about it, if she were honest.

"So it wasn't just some impromptu proposal." Victoire stared at her hand for a moment, then shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Congratulations?" Lucy said, awkwardly patting Victoire's hand. Noticing Victoire didn't have a ring, she wondered if Teddy was stupid enough to propose without one. He'd been planning the day for weeks; surely he couldn't have forgotten the most important part?

"I said no," Victoire admitted. "What's wrong with me? We've been dating for seven years, if off and on, and I said no. We could've made it work."

"You were going to break up with him this morning," Lucy prodded.

"I don't have much choice in it anymore... What am I doing with my life? Look at me... I'm twenty-four, I'm single, an owner of an ice-cream parlor... I'm an old hag with an ice-cream belly."

Lucy's heart broke to see Victoire so sad. "You're not an old hag, you're beautiful."

"Thanks, Lucy. I guess Teddy and I weren't as in love as we thought we were. I guess I'm a bit relieved, to be honest. Things haven't been working out for a long while."

Lucy couldn't tell if Victoire was being honest or convincing herself she was being honest, but it didn't matter. She'd take whatever made Victoire feel better. So she took the flowers from Victoire, made a show of turning around, and put them in her hands again. "Congratulations, Victoire. I'm happy for you."

"You're a bitch." But she was amused and smiling, and Lucy's heart melted.

Victoire was so beautiful, and Lucy was so close, and Victoire was finally unattached, and Lucy had flowers, and so Lucy balled up her courage and reached for her dream, pressing her lips against Victoire's. This close, Victoire smelled like sugar and raspberries and a tad like her favorite lipstick, which she must have wiped off after her disaster of a date.

In the next millisecond, Lucy realized what an idiot she was, kissing Victoire on the day she broke up with her long-term boyfriend, and pulled back.

"Lucy what—" Victoire began, but Lucy didn't let her finish, unable to hear what came next.

"I have to go!" Lucy squeaked out, and Apparated to Fred's place without another word. The last thing she saw was Victoire's shocked expression, and the sight stayed burned in her mind. Fred let her stay over at his house (also his parents', because Fred was a proper apprentice who spent almost all his time at St. Mungo's and would never be able to manage regular meals on his own) without hesitation, seeing her red-rimmed eyes. He gave her a tall glass of firewhiskey and a hug. Uncle George and Aunt Angelina only waggled their eyebrows at her a little, not commenting on how she slept in Fred's room and not in a guest bedroom.

("We're _cousins_," a younger Lucy had said, citing a perfectly good reason to have a sleepover in Fred's room.

"That's never meant much to wizards," Uncle George had said with a shake of his head and a smile to uncomfortable to be real.

She only realized what he meant when she reached puberty, when her childish crush on her cousin Victoire bloomed into sexual love.)

"It didn't go _that_ badly," Fred said while they lay on his bed, Lucy having finished a second bottle of firewhiskey.

"She's never going to talk to me again. She's going to throw my things out of our apartment. She's going to be traumatized for life and will never be friends with a woman again. It was the worst moment of—"

Fred covered her face with a pillow. An abnormally fluffy one, because Fred was such a picky sleeper. It reminded Lucy of last night, when she fell asleep to the sound of Victoire's breathing, and she felt tears welling up behind her eyes.

"It was the best kiss of my life," she said, and threw the pillow at Fred. It threw far by a half-meter.

Fred snorted and made a face. "Even better than our drunken moment of heaven in seventh year?"

"I thought you promised never to mention that," Lucy whined, cringing at the memory of the kiss. In Lucy and Fred's seventh year, their house had pulled the party of the century after they won the Quidditch Cup, and Lucy and Fred had gotten fabulously, stumblingly drunk. Drunk enough that for a moment, they'd forgotten Lucy was Victoire-sexual and Fred just wasn't interested, and mashed their mouths together in a sloppy parody of a kiss. Fred chipped Lucy's tooth, and Lucy tripped and pushed Fred into a classmate's pot of Devil's Snare. Madam Pomfrey had given them a lecture that burned their ears red and made them forget about romance for the remainder of the year.

Still in bed, Lucy and Fred laughed over stupid kisses and Lucy fell asleep with a lighter heart.

The next morning, Fred woke Lucy up at six by pushing her off his bed. "Rise and shine, little songbird!" he called, laughing at her angry expression. "Don't tell me you've forgotten? You have to bug Martin about your research! He's probably read your paper by now."

Lucy gaped at him and quickly ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to make it neat. "Yes!" She jumped off the floor, pulled on her robes, and vanished before Fred could get another word in.

"He only gets to work by nine," he said to the empty room. Then he shrugged, grinned deviously, and jumped into his family's fireplace with a cry of, "Victoire and Lucy's place!"

But in fact, Researcher Martin was in his office early that day, having never left the office last night. Lucy saw this as a model quality in a boss, but knew Victoire would have other ideas.

Victoire. Wonderful, incredible, Victoire.

Of all Lucy's mistakes, she regretted this one the most.

She cleared her throat. "Researcher Martin? Excuse me..."

The elderly wizard woke up with a jerk. "Lucy! You're here?" He looked toward the window. "Oh, is it morning already?"

Lucy covered her snicker with a nod. "Yes, sir."

He nodded and waved her over to a chair, which she had to empty of a lyre and two violins to sit down. Martin took the time to summon a plate of breakfast through St. Mungo's piping system and dug in.

Lucy sat awkwardly, waiting for him to say something. She didn't know what she'd do if he refused her a research apprenticeship—she couldn't deal with another disappointment so soon after losing her best friend.

Still, Martin said nothing. It was like he'd forgotten she was even there. Lucy cleared her throat again, this time louder to reach him over his chewing.

He peered at her from under his glasses. "What are you still doing here? Off you go, you have a free day. Come to my office tomorrow after nine so Martha can get you fitted for Researcher Apprentice robes, and we'll find out why you're ending up with too many cells."

"You mean you're offering me a job?"

"Yes, yes. You have a magical talent I can't imagine wasting. Now, chop chop!"

Lucy left the room with a wide smile and practically ran to the first floor Floo system. She paused just before throwing the green powder in the fireplace, realizing Victoire probably wouldn't care about her life anymore. Still, she threw it in, yelled, "Victoire and Lucy Weasley's!" and jumped in, hoping she was making the right decision.

Besides, it was only around seven, and Victoire usually got up at half past. Lucy could get enough clean clothes for a week and sneak out without her even knowing.

When Lucy stepped out of the fireplace, she came face to face with Fred, who had been just about to leave.

"Hey, funny coincidence, both of us being here..." He trailed off when Lucy's fingers twitched toward her wand, moving past her quickly and jumping into the fireplace with a running leap.

Lucy turned toward Victoire, who was sitting on the couch. They stared awkwardly at each other until Victoire patted the spot next to her and Lucy sat down.

"Whatever he told you, please ignore it," Lucy pleaded, cringing at what Fred must have said. She couldn't even look Victoire in the face. "He's an idiot."

Victoire chuckled a little. It was the most beautiful thing Lucy had heard all day. Maybe she was forgiven for the kiss? Maybe Victoire had already forgotten it? Maybe she had just written it off as a weird thing Lucy did?

"Did you know your best male friend has fantasies about us? He told me he wanted to be the first person to see us make out and have graphic lesbian sex. I almost hexed his bits off for it," Victoire said.

Lucy put her head in her hands. "I'm so sorry. He should be muffled and leashed. Speaking of that, I'll just go…"

Victoire continued speaking like Lucy hadn't said anything, but put her hand on Lucy's knee to keep her from getting up. "And then I told him that those things were between me and you, Lucy, only."

Lucy dared a look at Victoire's expression, but couldn't tell what she was thinking. "So—"

"He also told me that I should either date you or tell you to move on, because pining after me like this is unhealthy for you."

Lucy felt her heart rate spike. Fred was a dead man walking. "I'm sorry."

Victoire shook her head. "Don't, Lucy. I just need to know how you feel about me."

"I care about you." But that wasn't right, not exactly. If Victoire wanted her to be honest, Lucy needed to tell her the whole truth. "I love you. Romantically, that is. I'm in love with you." And when she said that, her other secrets seemed miniscule, so she let them out, too. "I'm not into guys. I tried dating one in Hogwarts but it was so boring. I liked you back then, too. I wasn't in love with you, even though I think I thought I was. I didn't know you well enough, since you were three years ahead of me. But then I got to know you, and I more or less grew up, and I couldn't help falling for you. You're amazing and kind and beautiful." She could go on, listing everything she loved about Victoire, but she was scared her feelings would turn Victoire away.

"I've dated other girls since then," Lucy continued, "I thought that if I met the right one, I'd overcome my feelings for you. But it never happened. I haven't told anyone but Fred."

"Not your parents?" Victoire asked, breaking her silence.

Lucy shook her head. "I'm not as close to mine as you are to yours. You know how Dad is. He lives in a rulebook and can't deal with anyone who goes against it. I've never been able to talk to him, and Mum's always been too busy with her Unspeakable work. And everyone else… I thought I'd tell them when I met the right girl. But I didn't. I'm not good at dating at all. I'm a workaholic, I put my research above everyone, I don't like to be bothered after work, I'm grouchy, and I can't shut up when I know I should.

"I've ruined everything, haven't I? I didn't tell you about how I felt because I didn't want you to treat me differently, but that's happened anyway. I don't know what to do." Lucy felt too close to crying.

Victoire took Lucy's hands in hers and waited until Lucy looked at her again. "Maybe you should let me catch up."

For a moment, Lucy didn't understand what Victoire meant. Then realization hit her, and she could barely believe her ears. Hope welled up inside her heart and she prayed she hadn't misunderstood Victoire. "But—"

"Look, I've been with Teddy for a long time. Even when I dated other guys, it was still expected I'd come back to him. We were in love six years ago, before it slowly fizzled out. I can barely remember what it feels to be passionately in love with someone, but I know how I feel about you. I love you. You're my best friend. I can barely remember when I haven't loved my adorable tag-along cousin. And whatever you think, I am attracted to girls. So kiss me, Lucy. And let me catch up."

And this time, Lucy pressed her lips against Victoire's expecting ones, curved into a smile instead of a shape of surprise, ready to see where love took them.


End file.
